Moving On, But Never Forgetting
by SSEE729
Summary: Set two weeks after Gravedanger, Nick is still having nightmares and must learnt to re-adjust to work and cope with his new, flipped upside down life, with a little help from his family and friends. Maybe future Snickers, maybe not.
1. Just A Dream

"_Hi CSI guy…. You're wondering why you're here? Because you followed the evidence. Because that's what CSIs do…. So breathe quick, breathe slow. Put your gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Any way you like, you're gonna die here"_

The plexi-glass box surrounding Nick seemed to shrink smaller and smaller until it squeezed the life out of him. Squeezed out all of his remaining hope. _You're gonna die here… you're gonna die here… you're gonna die here. _The phrase unceasingly taunted him. Nick looked around the box, searching for a way out; a way to save his life. He pounded on the glass; kicked violently, as much as the compressed box would allow him to, and flailed his arms in all directions, beating them against the glass with all of his quickly demising strength as the pace of his breathing soared.

Nick's heart rate jumped and was pumping dangerously high. The adrenaline in his body not allowing him to give up on himself. He needed to find a way out of this box, and he was determined to succeed. His life depended on it.

The pain began and it was excruciating. He panickly looked from his arms to his legs to his chest, swatting at the millions of ants that had rapidly appeared. They were crawling all over him; his legs, arms, chest, back, face; they were everywhere in a matter of seconds. Every time he swatted the ants would multiply. He would manage to brush a few off and ten times the amount would scurry back on top of him. They were biting and biting, creating painful red welts all over his body. They crawled up his nose, into his ears, and even into his mouth, but he soon forgot about them.

He gasped for air and couldn't breathe. Time had run out. His team. His family. Despite their intense efforts, had failed. He was going to die. He gasped again and again but no air filled his lungs, only a burning sensation that ripped through his entire body at rapid speed. His lungs were on fire. It was the most horrifying, most painful sensation he had ever felt. Nick tried screaming but couldn't. Instead his lungs crumbled within him, exploding for air with a painful burst.

Nick started crying and flailing his arms around in one last desperate attempt to acquire some much needed oxygen; one last attempt to save his life. One last escape. That's when his hand touched the gun. Nick picked it up quickly and held it up to his eyes. _This _was his escape. Given it was not a very good one, but it was all he had that he knew would guarantee the end of the unbearable burning of his lungs. He held the gun to his throat and began to flash back. Back to his childhood, all the moments he had shared with his brothers and sisters, the day his first niece was born, to the day his first nephew was, to college, meeting Grissom, and all the times he had shared with the team that had become a second family to him.

Then he was back to reality. A gun pointed to his throat by his own hand. His forefinger wrapped around the trigger, shaking uncontrollably. Back to the agonizing pain piercing through his body. His finger curled involuntarily around the trigger at a quickening pace. He tried to stop it, but he couldn't. He was out of control. _You're gonna die here . . . You're gonna die here . . . You're gonna die here . . ._

"I'm sorry" Nick mouthed as much to himself as to the family and friends he would never again see. Then a shot went off.

"Aughhgh!" Nick screamed as he bolted straight up in bed, a cold sweat drenching him and his sheets, tears running down his cheek. He breathed heavily and quickly as he rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, trying to massage away the terrifying nightmare he had had every night for the past two weeks. "It's just a dream . . . " Nick tried to convince himself. "It was just a dream . . ."


	2. Thats What Brothers Are For

_**Here's Chapter 2! Please review, it really gets me motivated. Thanks! I do not own CSI or any of the characters.**_

_**Two Hours Later…**_

Nick walked into the CSI Headquarters with a fake smile spread across his face. He walked past Judy, the receptionist, with a quick nod and an even quicker smile, and headed straight for the locker room. It was his first day back on the job since his attack. Sure he was nervous, but he wanted to get back to work. Get back to life as it was. A part of him kept telling himself that it would never again be exactly as it was before his attack, but he simply refused to accept it, yet anyway.

As he walked into the locker room he had walked into hundreds of times before, he was hit with an overpowering sense of something strong. He didn't quite know what it was. Confusion. Nostalgia. Pain. Memories. All of them together created this new weird sense that came over Nick. He couldn't describe it, and it was like nothing he had ever felt before. Weird. That was the only word to describe it. Weird. This was the place he had been moments before he was called out to the trash run. He guessed it was just a strong sense of overwhelming memories from the night of his attack that came over him. This was the last place he was before he was kidnapped. The last place he was before his life was changed forever. And it would always be the last place he ever was before being forever altered by the affects of that night. Perhaps it held the last traces of his normal life, the old Nick, within the walls of the that room. The walls, perhaps, held the last inklings of his life as he had known it before. The last place he would ever be with that same sense of self. Parts of which he had lost. Taken from him, ripped from his character, his person, by his kidnapping. The locker room was the last place that he was when everything was still normal, okay, fine. And it still held the remnants of that normality that Nick thought he may never again retrieve.

He took a deep breath as he reached out for the locker he had opened every night since he was on the job, and brought his hand up to turn the combination he knew by heart. That's when he saw the scar on his wrist. An ant bite that had never really completely healed. Of course he knew it was there, but every time he looked at it, he couldn't help but be brought back to that horrible time. Gasping for air, squirming under all the unbearable pain of the ant bites, raising that gun to his throat. He quickly dropped his hand down off his locker and away from his view. He looked away for a second before bringing his hands back up to his face and massaging his eyes with them. "No" Nick spoke aloud to himself. "It's over" He said again, trying desperately to convince himself. "It's over" He said again.

Just as he had reached his hand up to turn the combination once more, Warrick walked into the room. "Hey there buddy" He said as coolly as possible as he approached his best friend. He didn't want Nick to feel weird, uncomfortable. He didn't want to make him feel like it was different. He just wanted to make him feel like everything was fine.

Nick nodded his head in a single upward jolt and gave off one of his charming smiles. "Hey" He said back as he turned the last number in the combination and opened his locker up.

Nick placed his jacket inside the locker slowly, and as he did so he turned to face his friend. "What's up?" He asked casually, as if it were any other Monday night and the two were simply catching up after a weekend, seeing what the other did- that is, when they didn't hang out with each other.

Warrick cocked his head and let the question go by. "How are you?" He asked Nick sincerely. Slightly worried. But then again, he knew Nick was strong. Knew he was a fighter. But it was only a mere two weeks ago that he was pulling his best friend out of a box in the ground. Having to hold him down in the box he had spent so many torturous hours in, for an even longer time, so that the explosives on the bottom of the box would not be set off. Holding his hand, telling him it would be alright, as he watched his best friend cry hysterically, plead for permission to escape his hell hole, and have to deny him of even that for a bit longer.

Warrick shook his head quickly as if to shake away the horrific pictures that were flashing across his mind.

He cared about Nick. Cared about him more than he did most people. They were best friends. _Best friends._ And it shattered his heart when he had to watch his friend suffer. Watch him squirm and jostle in a box that would not allow him freedom. Watch him hold a gun to his throat as he gasped for any nonexistent oxygen still remaining in the box. And he remembered that sinking, destructing, excruciating feeling that had ripped through his body when he had thought, for a split second, that Nick had killed himself. He loved Nick like a brother. And it hurt more than anything having to watch him go through all that he did. Knowing that it was partially his fault. _We flipped a coin for that trash run._

But right now, it wasn't about him. It was about Nick. He wanted to assure that his friend truly was okay before he came back to work. And it made him smirk that Nick was asking about Warrick's well-being, continuing on as if nothing ever happened, when Nick was the one who had almost died a mere fourteen days earlier. _That's Nick for you._ Warrick thought to himself. The Nick that was always caring for others, genuinely concerned for their wellbeing, even when he was in pain, even when he was hurting much more. He always put his own issues aside, put away his own pain, so that he could help others, no matter what. And not once had he ever complained. Not once. He never once brought up how awful his life had been or all the horrible things that had happened to him. Instead, he helped others deal with the coping of the awful things that had happened to them, even if it wasn't as bad.

Nick nodded his head up and down a few time slowly as he let the question sink in. He squinted his eyes for a short moment, and drew his lips into a tight, thin, line. He let his eyes drop to the floor for a second or two before he looked back up at Warrick. His eyes still full of pain, anguish, confusion, hurt, but somehow slightly masked by the rest of his complexion.

"I'm alright" Nick answered with a nod of his head. He looked Warrick straight in the eye as he responded. But Nick didn't smile. His mouth remained formed into a thin, tight, line as he nodded his reassurance, that 'yes', he was okay. His hands were placed on his hips, and after a moment, he rubbed one of them over his mouth and then down to his chin quickly. His voice tried to assert that same assurance that his answer did, that he was alright, but it fell a little short. It was not as confident, not as convincing as his answer was. But Nick tried. And if it was anyone else but a member of the team asking him this question, they probably wouldn't have even noticed. But they all knew him so well. They were his friends. His second family.

Warrick nodded as well. "You sure?" He asked kindly, softly. His voice was warm, full of comfort. He truly cared. He looked at Nick with pleading, yet reassuring eyes. Warrick wanted to know exactly how Nick felt, but at the same time his eyes were telling him that everything was going to be alright. That everything was going to be fine. Warrick knew that his friend was still in pain, but hell, who wouldn't be. He also knew that what Nick really needed was a sense of normality again. The last two weeks had been nothing but doctor visits, family visits, friend visits, staying home all the time, people always watching out for him twenty-four-seven, people always asking him how he felt. Sure his kidnapping still bothered Nick, affected him, tore him apart. But then again, it always would. The sooner Nick could restore some sort of normality back into his life, perhaps the sooner he would be able to really cope.

"'Rick, I'm fine" Nick reassured his friend as he closed his locker door. This time he forced a smile and patted his friend on the back. His voice still didn't contain the sense of complete certainty, and sure it wasn't as effective in its convincing efforts that he was fine as his answer implied, but Warrick didn't expect it too. It would take a long time before he gained that full sense of self back, that full confidence. And maybe he never would. As much as it hurt Warrick to think that way, it was true. Nick could make a great recovery; become nearly his old self again. But there would always be a few things that would never be completely restored to the way they were before. That was inevitable. The kidnapping had happened. Nick had been buried alive. There would always be a lasting effect on his life.

"But thanks for looking out for me" Nick said sincerely as he walked out of the locker room with Warrick by his side. He patted his friend on the shoulder a few times. "It really means a lot" Nick finished, as his smile vanished and was replaced by a more serious, grateful, sincere, complexion. "Thanks"

"No problem, man" Warrick started as he turned to face his friend, " . . .you'd do the same for me." And Warrick truly believed that. He had no doubt in his mind that if anything were to ever happen to him, Nick would be there for him 180%. He knew that Nick would do everything he could to ease his pain, do everything he possibly could do to comfort him.

"That's what best friends are for right?" Nick asked with a genuine smirk. He and Warrick had now exited the locker room and were now headed to meet Grissom and the rest of the team for the handing out of assignments.

"Hey" Warrick said in a profound manner as he reached his arm out and placed it on Nick's shoulder, stopping him in place. ". . . That's what _brothers_ are for."


End file.
